


Love & Light - Wrathion's Choice

by Kayani_Iriel



Series: Scars and Souvenirs [5]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M, out takes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27147181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayani_Iriel/pseuds/Kayani_Iriel
Summary: Two Scenes from Wrathion's POV that didn't make it into the story. Does need the previous story to make any sense.
Relationships: Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn
Series: Scars and Souvenirs [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806547
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These two were written while I was writing L&L, and as such, the second is similar to what ended up in the actual fic, but not exactly. Wrathion's POV in that was a late stage addition suggested by one of my most trusted betas, and in the end, worked really well. I've preserved the original scene, without a ton of editing, so readers can see where I was headed anyway because I thought it might be fun.

He watched Anduin close his eyes and center himself. He could content himself watching the young king all day, if given a chance. It wasn’t just his natural good looks, the flowing blond hair and the guileless blue eyes, but his genuine goodness and strength shining through.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, and closed his eyes as well. Maybe the vision would come easier if he wasn’t watching plain stone walls for it. He took a deep breath, then another. A third.

Anduin’s gasp had his eyes flying open, looking around for danger. He saw nothing, just cold stone walls, and hanging lanterns. Looking over, he saw Anduin’s eye’s wide, staring.

_Well, at least one of them would have a vision to talk about_ , he thought sourly. He turned away.

And saw.

Tall stone arches, flanking several wide, well used corridors. Elaborate runners up each, woven in Alliance blue and gold, tassels on corners and fringe all around. Tall chandeliers, illuminating the spaces, chasing away shadows and would-be assassins with their unwavering light. He offhandedly noticed the light wasn’t thrown by candles, or mage light.

He turned, surveying the Stormwind throne room. The guard uniforms were different. Still plate, but lightweight, simpler. Less filigree, smaller insignia. But the same ugly plumed helmets. He smirked. Some terrible fashions, it seemed, never changed.

He pivoted slightly, afraid to look at the throne. His peripheral vision caught just the edge of it, tall, stately, the lions polished to a brilliant shine. There, movement. He couldn’t help himself, and turned.

Anduin sat on the throne. His Anduin, but not. He was older, much older. Golden hair faded, mostly grey now, still long and lustrous. A full beard, also grey, and a wrinkled visage. Still handsome. Still Anduin. A heavy gold band could be seen on his left ring finger.

His breath hitched, a sob building in his chest. He took a tentative step forward, hand outstretched.

Anduin beckoned to a guard, who hurried over. Wrathion couldn’t quite understand the words, the sound garbled and unfamiliar, but he understood the king was looking for someone. The guard pointed.

Wrathion watched Anduin turn, his face lighting up. He stood, arms outstretched. Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach. Who would he be welcoming?

His body betrayed him, turning of it’s own volition. There, Anduin embraced someone, someone with dark hair, shot through with grey. He saw wrinkled dark skin, a matching wedding band, curl tipped shoes.

Anduin pulled back, smiling at a much older Wrathion, whose dark eyes shone with love, but without the deep glow of dragon immortality.

Wrathion’s knees buckled, sending him to the floor. Sobs burst from his chest. He closed his eyes, willing the tears back. If Anduin saw him like this, there’d be no explaining it.

He took deep breaths, trying to calm his sobs, quieting them to hiccups, then to nothing. Opening his eyes, he found himself back in the store room. He looked over at Anduin, seeing him still staring deep into nothing, a few steps ahead of where he’d been. He carefully withdrew a small mirror from his pocket, and used his sash to clean up the smeared makeup.

He wondered as he worked. How was that possible? Certainly, he could alter his appearance to age alongside his beloved. He had already considered doing it. But his eyes. What had happened to his eyes?

Examining himself, he decided he looked as normal as he could get. Sitting back on his heels, he waited for Anduin to get out of his vision.


	2. Chapter 2

He woke unexpectedly, going from a sound sleep to wakefulness in the blink of an eye. He looked past Anduin to the small, magical clock on the nightstand and saw the hour was still early. With a sigh, he looped an arm around the sleeping king, pulling him closer.

Anduin murmured in his sleep, snuggling in. It never got old to wake and find the beautiful man in his bed, in his arms. His lover, his al klaruk, his heart. He kissed his forehead gently, and closed his eyes. He was tired. They'd spent the previous hours making love, their last chance before departing Karazhan, and having to keep a formal distance between themselves.

He drifted, but was unable to get fully back to sleep. Finally, he decided maybe some wine would help. He carefully slipped out of bed, then put on an ornate red and black robe Khadgar had given him. Slipping into a set of slippers, thankfully not murloc ones, he let himself out of the room, locking the door with a spell.

He headed to a small room where he knew Khadgar kept some of his better wine, intending on pouring a glass and taking it back to his room. It was finally late enough most of the conclave and acolytes would be sleeping, no doubt preparing for the big portal back to Stormwind or Orgimmar tomorrow, before going on to Silithus.

He perused the wine selection, finding a vintage he’d always liked, and poured a small glass. He figured it wouldn’t take much to get him to sleep, not with Anduin keeping the bed warm. He took the goblet and turned, heading back up the curving staircase.

A shimmer in a hallway off the stairs caught his eye. He stopped, curious. It wasn’t any particular colour, just an oval shimmer in the air at the far end of the portrait gallery. It was entrancing, and he found himself watching it for long moments.

He found himself on a hot, dusty plain, surrounded by the people of Azeroth. Druids and monks, dragons of all flights, Tauren and human alike surrounded a huge rift in the ground. Spells of all colours arced from the crowd, landing in and around the rift, sending up coloured sparks, causing a carpet of moss to spread out from the center.

As he watched, the wound shrunk, going from massive, to simply large, to the size of a ship. All around him the healers began to falter, some having to drop out, others fainting where they stood, crumpling to the ground like dolls. He began to be able to see through the thinning crowd, and could finally spot Anduin, at the front, next to Velen. He was glowing, lit by the Light, yellow magic raining from his hands into the open wound. The bracelet Wrathion had given him glowed a bright white at his wrist.

He began moving towards his beloved, wanting to be there when the healing was over, to celebrate the victory with him. As he wove through the crowd, stepping over and around the mostly depleted healers, he watched as the bracelet dimmed, and Anduin began to waver on his feet. He moved faster, wishing he could simply shift and fly.

He reached his beloved as he collapsed, bracelet going dark.

“Anduin!” he shouted, reaching for him. “Anduin, talk to me!” Anduin didn’t move. Around him, the few remaining healers continued to cast, the wound all but closed. He cared for none of it.

He grabbed him by the wrist, reaching for the power in the bracelet. All he got was a shooting pain across his own wrist. Completely drained.

“He’s gone,” Velen said from above him. “I cannot save him. No one can. We have nothing left. We will remember his sacrifice.”

“No! I refuse to allow it!” he shouted. He blinked.

He was in the portrait gallery, on his knees, in a pool of wine and broken glass.

“No,” he whispered, shaking. “Oh al klaruk, I cannot let that happen.”

“Then don’t. You have the power to stop it.”  
He shot to his feet, turning.

“You know I’m not strong enough, Medivh.”

The magus shrugged. “The magic you wield isn’t strong enough, no. But you have other magics available to you.”

Wrathion frowned. “I cannot give up the power of the Earthwarder. That power is given by Azeroth, it is only borrowed, not mine to give away.”

“I would never ask you to give away what isn’t yours, young dragon.”

“Then what? I have nothing else. I lack the magic to make that spell work. What game do you and Khadgar play at? You give me the ability to save him if something ever happens to him, but you do so knowing I haven’t the magic to trade for it.”

Medivh looked at him for a long moment. “You have a choice ahead of you, Wrathion. One only you can make. Will you choose immortality without him?”

“You mean-”

The magus nodded. “Choose wisely. You won’t be given a second chance.”

He turned and walked away, leaving Wrathion staring after.


End file.
